


The Pain of Change

by foxy11814



Category: White Collar
Genre: Best Friends, Father Figures, Gen
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-12-23
Updated: 2014-02-26
Packaged: 2018-01-05 16:59:05
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 13,770
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1096353
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/foxy11814/pseuds/foxy11814
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Peter wanted a change. His disappointment in Neal had shattered his faith in him...or did it? SPOILERS FOR SEASON FIVE, especially episode "No Good Deed." -Slight Peter and Neal father & son/best friends type story.-</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first White Collar fic. I have loved the show for a very long time and recently decided to read some of the fanfiction. After nearly two days of reading, I decided I wanted to try my hand at it. I’m not sure if this will be a one-shot or not. We’ll see. Right now, I assume it will be unless enough people want me to continue. Regardless, please read and review. I’d love to hear what you think!
> 
> This will have small spoilers for Season Five’s “No Good Deed.”

 

Neal stood at the window and shoved his hands deep into the pockets of his Devore pants. He was lost in thought and the hustle and bustle of the FBI agents surrounding him faded into the background. There had been a point in his life when the only thing that could distract him like this was the idea of another score, another heist… Now, there was only one topic—or should he say person?—that had this ability.

Peter.

Just thinking the name made him cringe. Things were changing. Peter had stated that they would, but he hadn't wanted to believe it. At the time, he had wanted to believe that Peter was just mad and would calm down eventually, but deep down he knew Peter meant what he had said: Peter wanted to change their relationship, and he knew there wasn't anything he could do to change the FBI agent's mind.

He knew he shouldn't want to anyway. Mozzie was right when all of this began. He should have never gotten so personally involved with a "suit," as his friend loved to call Peter, but he hadn't been able to stop himself. Peter understood him and knew him better than anyone else ever had. He had honestly felt a true camaraderie with him—he thought he had gained a family with the Burkes. Now, he knew that wasn't true. Peter had reminded him  _yet again_  that he was a criminal. Now, he accepted it: he was a criminal. He had been contemplating for quite a while now to return to the fold. Mozzie was certainly happy about the prospect, but he had been distracted by Hagan.

Sighing, he realized this separation between himself and Peter made things easier. There had been a time before when he had almost ran, but Peter talked him into staying. His friendship had stopped him from stepping onto that jet. (Never mind that it had blown up.) Nothing was standing in his way now, not anymore.

"Everything okay, Caffrey?" he heard Jones ask.

Stepping away from the window, he looked back at the agent, Peter's point man. "Yeah, everything's fine."

"Are you sure?" he questioned. His voice very much portrayed the concern that also flittered across his face as he spoke. "Things have been off lately."

This caused Neal to raise his brow. While he knew Jones was usually perceptive, he would have thought Peter would have informed him of his big decision…or maybe he had. Playing along, he repeated, "Off?"

Jones nodded. "Yeah, off…you know, you and Peter. You two haven't said five words to each other when usually you start off the day catching up."

Neal shrugged as he looked up at Peter in his office. His handler was currently looking down at some paperwork in front of him, not paying him the least bit of attention or so it seemed. Now that their relationship had changed and gone back into one of "Agent vs. Criminal", maybe Peter had no desire for him to know when he was being watched. Regardless, he looked at Jones calmly and replied cryptically, "Things change all the time."

When Jones opened his mouth to obviously question him further, he backed away and held his hands up. "If you want to know, ask Peter. As for me, I'm going home. It doesn't seem like I'm needed today." As quickly as he could, he sprinted to the elevator before Peter noticed his departure. Despite their current situation, he knew Peter wouldn't want him to leave, especially without cause.

When the doors of the elevator closed, he squeezed the bridge of his nose and tried to control the sudden moisture that appeared in his eyes.

"Things have got to change," he whispered to himself. Like Peter had, he had to move forward.

=)=)=)

Lightning popped and thunder boomed outside as Neal entered his apartment/guest room in June Ellington's home. He was soaked since he had forgotten to carry an umbrella to work and he didn't feel like waiting in a taxi for the rain to lessen. As he took off his jacket and headed to his bedroom, he was not surprised to hear a voice ring out, "Oh, how the floodgates of hell have opened and released its minions…"

He grinned despite his morose mood and exclaimed, "Moz, what are you doing here?"

Mozzie did not answer this question; instead, he stood up from his current place on Neal's sofa and countered, "The question should be 'What are you doing here?' Did the Suit get mad at you for yet another reason and send you home?"

Neal grimaced at the reminder of Peter and their current disaccord. He had left the office to get away from Jones' questions, only to have to deal with Mozzie's questions, but he decided he'd rather discuss this with someone who was on his "reestablished side" than a suit. "No," he answered, "I sent myself home. I didn't feel like working today."

"What's this?" Mozzie said sarcastically; "Could it be that Neal Caffrey is finally getting bored of his escapades as a side kick of the Grand Suit?"

Neal rolled his eyes and answered truthfully, "Very funny, Moz. Not exactly. Just let me change my clothes and I'll tell you everything."

"Okay, but don't take too long."

Neal entered his bedroom and finished taking off his clothes. He grabbed a pair of jeans and a t-shirt, so he could lounge around the house. If Peter showed up, he wanted him to know right away that he had no intention of going back in. Of course, that was assuming that Peter would come after him. He knew he would have in the past, but now that things were changing, he didn't know…

=)=)=)

Peter was aware of the fact the Neal was standing at the window staring down into the street below and lost in thought. He knew, because he had been doing the exact same thing before Neal had walked into the office.

He would admit it: the past week had been hard. He missed Neal. He missed their supposed coincidental run-ins in the morning and drinking coffee together as they walked to work. He missed their playful jibes while trying to solve a case. He simply missed their camaraderie…but this was something that he had to do. Neal had reminded him most painfully that they were from two different worlds. While he was the straight and narrow kind of guy who believed in the law, Neal was the kind who rode in defiance of the law.

He had wanted to believe so badly that Neal could change. He even believed that he had convinced Neal of that fact, but all it took was one tough situation and Neal fell back on old habits. Worst yet, he did it for  _him_. Did Neal even know how hard that was to cope with? He probably didn't. Neal believed that the end justifies the means, but Peter couldn't live that way. When you lived with that kind of philosophy, you were bound to run into sticky situations and you'd end up on the wrong side of the law.

He swallowed roughly and looked at Neal once more briefly. Currently, Jones had walked up to him and was probably questioning him on why he wasn't at his desk working. In the not so long ago past, he would have been down there asking Neal if something was wrong and if he could help. He couldn't do that anymore. Besides, he knew what was wrong. Regardless of their misunderstanding, he knew Neal was feeling the same pain he felt now, but the severance of their friendship had to be done. He had gotten too involved with his CI's personal life and it had not only gotten Neal to break the law, it had made him act against his better judgment and let the Dawson go free as long as he agreed to give the money back and to quit his job. Neal considered it a win. He considered it a mark on his what used to be an untarnished badge.

Lifting his head to look at Neal one more time, he was surprised to see that Neal was no longer in sight. He stood and grabbed his coat when Jones suddenly appeared before his office and walked inside.

"Peter, we need to talk," Jones said, and Peter grimaced.

"Whatever you have to say will have to wait, Jones. It seems as though Neal is on the move," he said.

Jones moved in front of the door before Peter even got near it and replied, "He's on his way home. Anyway, that's what I want to talk to you about."

Peter wasn't surprised. Too bad he had gotten lost in his thoughts earlier or he probably would have witnessed some kind of scene that would explain why Neal had gone home and Jones was now in his office. "What is it, then?" he questioned, throwing his coat back on the nearby rack.

Jones shook his head and walked farther into the office. "I know it's none of my business," he began.

Peter turned his back on him and began to walk back behind his desk. "If this is about what I think it is, then you're right—it isn't."

Jones was undeterred. "But I have to say it anyway." He turned his head slightly to look behind him to stare at the people below before turning back to Peter. "Something is wrong here, and that something is you and Neal."

Peter sat down and wondered if he should deny it. If he admitted that there was a problem, he knew Jones would want to know what had happened. Then,  _that_  would lead to questions, and he didn't want Jones to find out about Dawson. He wanted to forget that it ever happened, but he realized in order to do that, he had to get everyone used to the change he had implemented in regards to Neal…or rather Caffrey. He smiled as best as he could and said, "There's nothing wrong, Jones. Caffrey and I are fine. It's just that I have decided that things around here need to be ran by the book. We've been a little lapse in protocol and I thought we could tighten up on that."

Jones looked confused. "Has something happened?"

Peter's smile disappeared as he questioned, "Does something have to happen in order for me to want to do my job properly?"

"N-no," Jones stumbled. "It's just that…" Their eyes met again and he continued softly, "Never mind. I guess you know what you're doing."

"I do," Peter said, happy to have gotten Jones to back off and understand the situation.

As the agent went to the door, he turned around to look at Peter once more. "I do have to say just one thing, though," he stated as he rested his hand on the doorframe.

"What's that?"

Jones sighed and said firmly, "Neal thinks highly of you. Even though he has never said it to me, I know you're the closest thing he's got to a family, and he respects you and even cares about you. Whatever  _this_ is, it's tearing him apart, and I think it's doing the same to you." Without waiting for a reply, Jones walked away.

Peter picked up a pen and started to do his paperwork again to get his mind off of the conversation right away, but he found that he couldn't do it. He flung the pen onto his desk and groaned deeply. He sprung out of his seat and went to the window. He shook his head and whispered, "I wish I could fix this."

=)=)=)

Neal and Mozzie sat at the dining room table, sipping on a glass of chardonnay as they talked about the recent developments in Neal's relationship with Peter.

"So, let me get this straight!" Mozzie exclaimed as he hopped up from his seat. "The Suit is now convinced that you're a criminal again and that you'll never change. He's treating you like one again…Why are we still here?"

"Moz," Neal began, shaking his head, but he was interrupted.

"No, Neal!" Mozzie almost shouted. "For years now, I have said that we should leave! Time and time again, you decided to stay and I stayed, too, because I'm your friend. Whether you admit it or not, I know you stayed for the Suit. You thought with him you could lead a normal life and stay away from our usual lifestyle. Now the Suit himself says that is impossible, and it will be impossible no matter what you might have been led to believe, because he's going to treat you like a criminal, regardless. You might as well be one!"

Neal rested his head in his hands and rubbed his face thoroughly as he listened to Mozzie's logic. He had already had those exact same thoughts, but to hear them from another person solidified it in his mind. He finally brought his hands down and looked at his companion. "Then, what do you suggest I do?"

Mozzie smiled and said, "I'm so glad you asked!" He moved his seat closer to Neal's and sat down again. "I made a device that will distort the new anklet the Suit brought you, and if the he checks your whereabouts, he'll think you're here! We can cut it off and just leave! We could run to Brazil, Tahiti, or perhaps the Cayman Islands, wherever. We'll figure that out as we go!"

"What about the Codex and Chapter Thirteen?" he asked softly. It was almost surreal that he was considering this. There was a time not so long ago that he wouldn't have dreamed of leaving the life he had created here, but Peter changed all of that.

"Let Hagan worry about that!" Mozzie exclaimed. "We'll leave the window pieces here and let him figure it out,  _if_  he can get here and find it before the Suits arrive!"

Neal stood, walked out onto his terrace without saying a word, and looked at New York. He was going to miss this life. He was going to miss this city. He was going to miss Peter…

But he had to make this change.

He turned back to his friend, who had followed him outside. "Okay, Moz, let's do it," he mumbled.

"For real this time?" Moz asked excitedly.

"Yeah, for real this time."

"You will not regret this!" Mozzie exclaimed. "I'll go now and get our affairs in order, if you know what I mean. I'll handle everything. You just pack whatever is here that you want to take with you." He started to walk back into the apartment so he could leave, but he turned back. "You know we have to make a clean break, right?"

"Yeah, a clean break," Neal repeated as he leaned against the railing and looked down at the city again.

=)=)=)

"Neal!" Peter yelled as he ran into the apartment. Ever since Jones had left his office, he had thought about their discussion and he had realized that maybe he had gone about this thing with Neal the wrong way. Maybe he was being a little too hard on Neal. He didn't know what he would do now, though—things still needed to change, but that didn't mean they had to act like strangers. Neal was like a wayward son or brother. He knew that, so he couldn't abandon him emotionally even if he wanted to. It was torture to them both, he knew that now. "Hey, Neal!" he called out again.

He knew Neal had to be there, because he had checked his anklet. Frowning when he didn't see anyone, he pulled out his phone and checked the Neal's location again. It was coming from… He searched the room.

The refrigerator.

With a feeling of dread, he yanked the door open and saw the anklet sitting on a piece of paper. He lifted it and saw that it was a letter addressed to him in Neal's familiar handwriting:

_Dear Peter,_

_The last few years have been the happiest of my life. I really enjoyed helping you, Jones, and Diana. You three tried your hardest to keep me on the right side of the law, and I must admit I did try to make all of you proud, especially you. I know you believed in me and I wanted to be the man you wanted me to be. For a while there, I thought I was._

_Because of what happened with Dawson, you've made me realize the truth about myself. You were right to want to distance yourself from me. You're right: I'll always be a criminal and I will always fall back on those old habits. I didn't want to believe it. You didn't want to believe it, but now we are both accepting it._

_That being said, I know as I'm writing this letter that I could stay. I could continue to work with you and the White Collar Division. It would keep me out of trouble as much as someone like me can stay out of trouble. It would give me some piece of the lie you and I had believed for so long, but I know that would be too painful to bear. I'd have to be reminded every day of what I lost, thanks to my actions. I promise you, Peter, that I thought I was doing the right thing. Unfortunately, what I am gives me a different range of what's right and wrong than yours._

_Regardless of all of this, I just wanted to say thank you for being there for me. You were my best friend. You were like the father that I never had, and you tried as fathers and friends do to lead me in the right direction. I'm sorry that it was a lost cause. I will miss you, Peter, and even though I know this letter and my actions mean I'm on the run again, I can assure you that you won't find me this time. Don't waste your life and your time with El chasing me. I've taken enough of your time._

_Good-bye, my friend._

_Neal_

Peter wiped his eyes as he finished reading the note. He drove Neal to this—he knew he did. He should have seen it coming. Taking a deep breath, he quickly called Jones and said, "It's Neal, he's running. We have to stop him. Pick me up at his place."

He hung up the phone and hurriedly made his way to the front door, but before he left, he turned back one more time to look at the apartment and his eyes rested on the dinner table. Facing him was a picture frame and inside of it was a picture of him and Neal standing side-by-side and smiling at the camera. It had been taken at one of those office Christmas parties. He swallowed roughly and felt a wave of self-denigration.

"I'm going to find you, Neal. No matter what you say or where you go, I'll always find you," he whispered softly as he grabbed the picture from the table and took it with him.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fanfiction.net has been down for most of the day, so I haven't posted this chapter over there. I guess those of you who read this story here can be my guinea pigs and tell me what you think of this next chapter. It's a transition chapter, if you will, showing everyone's plans after Neal's departure in chapter one. I hope it's halfway decent. I'd appreciate it if you gave me your thoughts!

The Pain of Change Chapter 2

When he walked into his home, he didn’t say a word. His customary greeting to his wife was the stereotypical, “Hon, I’m home!” but he couldn’t bring himself to show such gaiety today. He sat down on his couch as soon as he reached it and buried his face in his hands. He wasn’t sure how long he stayed in that position, but eventually, he felt someone rubbing his back tenderly.

He looked up at his wife and saw the genuine concern there. “Hon,” he whispered. He closed his eyes again to fight the rush of emotion he felt when he prepared to tell her what had happened.

“What is it? What’s wrong?” she questioned. He could hear the panic in her voice. He knew she had no idea what was going on or what to expect.

Taking a deep breath, he looked at her once more and replied softly, “It’s Neal.”

She gasped. “Oh, God! What happened? Where is he?”

He knew she was thinking he had gotten hurt somehow or something of the like. She wasn’t like her husband at all when it came to Neal being a "criminal." She always assumed the best and he always assumed the worst. He felt so guilty about that now. He cleared his throat and stared into her eyes. “He’s gone.” He swallowed roughly. “Neal left. He ran and it’s my fault.”

“What?” Elizabeth questioned, startled. “Why?”

He couldn’t retell the story. He knew he wouldn’t be able to get through it. So, instead of saying anything, he handed her Neal’s letter. He watched her intently as her eyes filled with sympathy. “Do you have any idea where to start looking?” she asked.

He couldn’t help but smile at her response. El knew him well:  she knew he wouldn’t do as Neal had requested—he had to search for him, and he wouldn’t give up. He never had before when he ran and he wasn’t about to start now. Taking his wife’s hand in his, he replied, “No, I have no idea where to start this time, but I’m going to find him.”

“I know you will,” she agreed with a confident nod. After a moment of contemplation, she asked softly, “What does that mean for Neal when you find him?”

Peter sighed and admitted, “I don’t know, hon. Neal is still a convicted felon. He’s likely to go back to prison for a very long time.” He got up and started pacing the room.

Elizabeth watched him for a few moments and then mumbled, “Well, perhaps it’s better if you leave him alone, then.”

“What?” he asked, totally surprised.

She left the couch and stood in front of him. “Neal was almost through with his sentence. He doesn’t deserve to go back to prison.”

Peter closed his eyes again. He was so conflicted, and he so often was with Neal. That was the problem and what had started this whole mess:  he wanted to be a good agent. He wanted to do his job well and by the book. He wanted to be the man he portrayed…and yet, Neal made him push the boundaries almost every single day that they worked together. What he was doing now was a testament to that:  he was already trying to figure out a way to bring Neal back without submitting him to more jail time. The big question was if he should even be thinking about that in the first place. If he went by the book, he should simply find Neal and send him back to prison. He broke the law and that’s that.

But Neal was so much more to him than a criminal. He wished he had admitted that to himself before Neal had decided to take off. Neal was his…friend. He was like a son. This was the second time that day that he had that thought, so he knew that’s how he truly felt. And, like most fathers, they may disapprove of what their children do, but they never gave up on them:  he didn’t want to give up on Neal.

“I can’t,” he finally replied to El. “I can’t let this go. I’m the reason Neal ran, so I have to fix this. He has a life here. He has family and friends, people who care about him…”

Elizabeth sat down on the arm of a nearby chair and questioned in mock innocence, “What family? Neal doesn’t have anyone. His family left, so maybe he is better away from here. He can start fresh.”

He knew what his wife was doing and it was working. She wanted him to admit how he felt. She was pushing him to do it, so he did. “He has me, El! He has _us_! We’re his family and I can’t let him go.” 

She reached out and grabbed his hand. She squeezed it tightly in support.

=)=)=)

Neal sat on a bus heading towards Buffalo. It wasn’t quite the type of transportation that he preferred, but he knew he had to do something out of his usual M.O. to trick Peter. So, he was traveling by bus and going somewhere a little less sunny than the locations Mozzie had proposed when trying to convince him to leave.

He stared out the window at the passing scenery and sighed. When he was a child, he hadn’t cared too much about the country—he had preferred the city where there was always something happening and things to see. Now, he had more of an appreciation for nature. Because of his anklet, he hadn’t seen this much grass and trees in a really long time. He supposed that was one of the good things about leaving New York. He was free to move about as he pleased and see things outside a two-mile radius of his home.

Leaning his head back on his seat, he cast his eyes around the bus. He felt completely alone. Mozzie and he had agreed to separate, so they wouldn’t be so easily spotted. At least that was the excuse his companion gave. He knew Moz didn’t enjoy long trips on buses any more than he did, so he had probably found a more comfortable means of traveling.

They were going to meet in Buffalo. They had a contact there who was currently in the process of setting up a place for them to stay. Then, after a few days when he made himself and Mozzie a few passports, they would cross the border into Canada. From there, they would travel along Lake Ontario until they reached Toronto. The city presented them with a lot of opportunities. The museums, art galleries, and performing arts in Toronto and its surrounding towns were well-known. They definitely gave New York a run for its money in these departments, so he decided that it would be a good place to start over, especially since Peter would never expect them to go to Canada.

Staring back out the window, his thoughts drifted to Peter. He wondered what he was doing. He had probably already told El everything by now. He could imagine him sitting at the dinner table, complaining and talking about his troublesome C.I. Already, he would be devising plans on how to find and bring him in. Already, he would be compiling a list of charges to read out to him if and when they caught him…

He shook his head. He didn’t want to think about Peter as his hunter or adversary anymore. He simply wanted to remember the good times when they were something akin to friends, but thinking about it only hurt. The pain of disappointing and disillusioning Peter hurt far more than any of the occasions his birth father had left him, including this latest time.  

Once again, forcing himself to think about something else, he thought about the list of materials he would need to create fake passports…

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Let me know what you think, please!


	3. Chapter 3

The Pain of Change Chapter 3

"Remember, these have to be perfect."

Neal stopped working on the passport and looked up at the ceiling irritably. "Moz, it will be perfect if you would stop hovering over me!" he complained, turning his head slightly to look at the man whose face was right beside his. Neal was trying to get the watermarks over Mozzie's picture, which he was using for the passport, to match the surrounding paper perfectly.

Regardless of his words and actions, though, he wasn't annoyed with his friend…far from it, actually. Mozzie's constant presence, interruptions, and banter had kept his mind off of everything that he didn't want to think about for over a day now. The busier he was and the more Mozzie talked, the less time he had to think about Peter and the life they were leaving behind. He knew that was Mozzie's scheme, and it was one that he would allow since he actually needed to not think, desperately.

Mozzie sighed at Neal's words and walked around the table to sit in a nearby chair. "Remember when you could go into Canada with only a birth certificate and an I.D.? Those were the days! The Man wants to make it more difficult to leave this country if we needed to."

Neal grinned in slight amusement but didn't reply. He would never get tired of hearing his friend's theories about the government. He wondered how long it would take him to get paranoid about Canada's once they had crossed the border. He laughed to himself a little when he realized Moz probably already was. He bent back over and picked up the hairdryer to make the colors on the picture dry quicker.

Mozzie exclaimed, "What?"

=)=)=)

It had been a few days since Neal's departure from New York and already Peter was frustrated. Every idea he had so far had come back with nothing. He had checked reports of stolen cars throughout the city, but nothing had stood out to him. After all, if Neal was going to steal a car, it would be a _really_ nice one, and the cars stolen on that day and since didn't fit the bill.

Also, his men and he had watched countless videos of airport lobbies and terminals, thinking Neal might try to leave the country and go to one of those tropical locations Mozzie was so fond of, but now after a fruitless search, he wasn't so sure. One thing was certain now, though, that he could mark off the list of possibilities: Neal hadn't left New York by plane. "So, how did he leave?" he questioned himself softly. If it had been anyone else besides Neal, he would think that bus stations or car rentals would be obvious places to look, but Neal didn't like…

He widened his eyes. Of course, Neal would try to do the unexpected to throw him off. He stood from his desk abruptly and knocked on the glass of his office. When a number of agents looked up, he pointed at Jones and gestured for him to come into his office.

When he returned to his desk, he looked over a map of the entire United States that he had spread out on his desk. "Where are you, Neal?" he asked aloud.

Jones walked into the room then and asked, "Did you need something, boss?"

He nodded and said, "Get all the security videos you can in bus terminals of the day Neal disappeared. Get videos of surrounding areas, as well. Perhaps Neal is doing the norm to throw us off."

Jones' lips upturned and he gave a small nod. Obviously, the agent liked the notion or was at least pleased that another idea was on the table. Peter knew he was.

"Yes, sir," Jones replied and headed back down to the ground floor.

Peter sat down in his chair behind the desk and looked at the map again. "I will find you, Neal," he whispered. He had been saying that for several days now, and he still believed it. He refused to believe otherwise.

=)=)=)

Cars, trucks, and buses lined up at the border into Canada. Neal was driving, so he picked the third line from the left which seemed to be the shortest and moved the Ford Fusion, which had been given to them by their contact, into it.

"This is bad," Mozzie said as he looked around and saw Border Patrol agents everywhere. Many were walking between the cars, pointing to others to tell them where they should go, and others were merely peeking into the vehicles as they walked by.

"Relax," Neal whispered and plastered the brightest smile on his face that he could muster. He knew if they appeared nervous, the agents surrounding them might think they had a reason to be and that could lead to all sorts of trouble. "This will work."

Mozzie nodded, continued to look around with just his eyes, and whispered, "I know it will. It's just that I haven't seen or heard of so many U.S. agents checking out people _leaving_ the country. They usually spend their time checking those who are coming in."

Neal wouldn't admit it aloud and encourage Mozzie's paranoia, but he had similar thoughts earlier as soon as he had seen the quantity of men out there, but he knew that had nothing to do with them. "They're not looking for us," he shared confidently. "Peter has no idea that we're crossing the border."

He then moved the car forward until he was at the booth. When he looked at the agent inside, he sighed inwardly with relief. He flashed his 1,000 watt smile at _her_.

"Passports and I.D.?" the woman said as she smiled at Neal.

He quickly handed the items over to the agent as well as Mozzie's. The woman looked at the passports briefly and then bent to look at both people in the vehicle. She asked, "Where are you two coming from?"

Knowing that these were standard questions when leaving the country, Neal didn't tense in the slightest. He continued to smile and responded, "New York City. We're on vacation."

She nodded slightly and said, "Where are you vacationing exactly?"

Neal had expected this question and answered readily, "A charming little town called Stratford. Perhaps you've heard of it? It has a play festival there every year and my friend and I thought we would go and check it out. Plus, I've heard their cuisine is to die for."

She nodded again and replied, "Wait right here."

Neal watched the lady begin to type onto a keyboard, but unfortunately, the monitor wasn't facing him so he couldn't see anything. He looked behind her in idle curiosity to see what else was in the booth besides the computer, when he noticed a large camera pointed straight into the car only three feet away from him. He had known there would be cameras everywhere, but he hadn't expected there to be one practically in his face.

He looked around and saw that there were others that were taking shots of the entire car. He knew then that if Peter ever got an inkling that they went into Canada and got ahold of this footage, there would be no denying who they truly were. Swallowing roughly, he tried to calm down but almost jumped out of his skin when the agent came back. Fortunately, he controlled himself at the last minute. "Here you go. Enjoy your trip!"

Neal smiled again and responded, "Yes, thank you!" Mozzie repeated the sentiment gratefully, as well.

Neal took their identification back and set them on the seat. As quickly as he could without breaking the speed limit, he left the border and made his way onto the QEW. Following this road would lead them around Lake Ontario and straight into Toronto.

"We made it," Neal said as he looked into the review mirror and saw the American flags drifting farther out of sight. His chest tightened significantly, but he knew it had nothing to do with leaving his country, not really…

He had just left Peter and his jurisdiction. He had truly left the FBI agent's reach…and it made him infinitely sad.

=)=)=)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know this may seem like an uneventful chapter, but it really isn't. Or at least, it's important, LOL. I hope this chapter wasn't too boring of a read, but the events needed to be laid. ;) Please read and review! Let me know what you thought anyway! :)


	4. Chapter 4

The Pain of Change Chapter 4

Hours of footage from the day Neal had disappeared danced before Peter's eyes as he fast-forwarded through videos obtained from different bus stations throughout the city. He had begun this search on a whim, thinking that Neal might have tried to hide behind normal criminal exit strategies, because it would be so unlike the notorious Neal Caffrey, who was known for his elusiveness. So far he hadn't had any luck, but he wasn't going to let that stop him. He knew Neal was on film somewhere. He just had to find it.

He stared at the television for several more minutes until he felt his eyes burn. Bringing his hand up wearily, he rubbed his temples and eyelids as he used his left hand to fumble for the remote to pause the screen. As soon as he was through, he flung the controller back on the table and dropped his head into his hands for a moment. He was exhausted—he felt like hadn't been home in ages. Yes, he went home every night, but his mind was always elsewhere, pondering where Neal was and what he was doing. It unnerved him to think of Neal going back to a life of crime. They had worked so hard for him to get out of that lifestyle. For him to go back to that was unfathomable, and yet, he knew it was possible and highly probable since he was on the run. After all, Neal used those very skills every day he was at the bureau and he would have to rely on them to survive. He was just as good—if not better—a conman today as he was before he had been arrested.

Opening his eyes, he sighed and reached into his pocket to pull out his cellphone to call El. He was going to pull another late shift. The quicker he finished going through these tapes, the quicker he could move on to a new possibility if he needed to. He punched in the number and lifted his face to glance at the video as he waited for his wife to pick up the phone.

"Hello?" he heard his wife say, but he couldn't respond. His brain ceased to function for a moment. "Hello? Peter? Is that you, hon?"

Peter stared at the screen before him, not sure if he could believe his eyes. Was it possible that he could have such luck? He stood up and walked closer to the screen. In the background on the far right hand side…was it Neal? He squinted at the screen and scrutinized the man intensely. It had to be him!

"Peter! You're scaring me!" he heard El yell.

Shaking himself out of his stupor, he said, "Hon, hon…I'm sorry. I—I got distracted." Hearing her sigh in relief, he continued, "I was calling to tell you I'm coming home late, because I wanted to finish going through these tapes."

"Okay," she replied, "and what had you so mesmerized that you couldn't speak to me?"

He grinned and answered, "I think I found him—I think I found Neal."

"You know where he's gone?"

He could hear the excitement and relief in El's voice and he hated to disappoint her, but this _was_ good news. "No, but I found the bus terminal he went to prior to leaving the city. I can easily track where he went from there if I can pinpoint his initial destination."

"That's great, hon," El replied. She wasn't as excited as before, but he could tell she was optimistic. "And, what are you going to do when you find him?"

Like before, he didn't have an answer to that question, yet. He just wanted to find Neal first. Then, he would think about where to go from there. "I don't know," he admitted, "but I'll think of something." Before she could respond, he continued, "Hon, I have to go. I want to call Jones and Diana back in. Hopefully, we can find out where Neal went and have an idea of where to start looking tomorrow."

After the couple said good-bye and hung up, Peter grinned at the screen in confidence. He hadn't found Neal yet, like he said he would, but he knew he was well on his way to achieving that goal. It was only a matter of time.

=)=)=)

Neal and Mozzie drove a short distance from the Canadian border onto the QEW until they got to the edge of Lake Ontario. Across the lake, they could see their destination: Toronto. Even though Neal had never been there before he knew without question that was the city he was looking at. It was the largest city in Canada and its prominent CN Tower stuck out high above the other skyscrapers, so much so that there was no mistaking that skyline for any other in the world.

"There it is, Moz," he said, pulling the car over to the edge of the road. "Our new home."

Moz was quiet as he stared at it, so Neal got out and walked to the opposite side of the car. He leaned against the hood and stared across the lake. As usual recently, he didn't know how to feel at this moment. On the one hand, he was rather excited. Toronto had a rich culture with many museums, theatres and festival events to keep him occupied. He already couldn't wait to visit the Art Gallery of Ontario, which was one of the largest collections in North America, and the Royal Ontario Museum, which was world-renowned… On the other hand, the sight finally made him accept reality: he really did it. He really left New York City. He really left the United States. He really left Peter.

He heard more than saw Mozzie open the passenger door of the car. He stepped out and leaned against the vehicle beside Neal.

"It's too late to have second thoughts," his friend stated matter-of-factly.

Neal nodded. "I know," he replied. "I'm not having second thoughts, Moz. I know I can't go back to New York now. I just…I'm taking it all in."

Mozzie stepped away from the car and approached the fenced-off lake. When he turned back to look at Neal, he said, "Imagine all the possibilities Toronto will give us once we get there!"

Neal nodded but soon tuned his friend out as Mozzie went into detail of how many art galleries Toronto had alone, excluding the galleries in nearby cities and towns. He knew his friend was trying to cheer him up, but Neal already knew all of this. That's why he had chosen the city and convinced Mozzie that was where they had to go. If he couldn't be in New York, he wanted to go someplace similar. Not waiting for Mozzie to finish his speech, he interrupted, "Well, let's get back in the car and keep moving. We might see it, but we still have hours to drive around the lake to actually get to it." He paused for a moment and asked, "Where are we meeting our contact?"

As Neal walked around the car to get back behind the wheel, Mozzie opened his door and smiled. Once they were seated in the vehicle, he said, "At a warehouse on Lake Shore Boulevard. He's already setting up a security system for our new headquarters."

Neal eyed him for a moment and questioned, "Can this guy be trusted?"

He nodded. "I used him before, not in Toronto, of course, but I've been other places and he's helped me to relocate. He's dependable. When we get there, I'll put up cameras and change the locks and security codes to be sure, but he definitely won't turn us into the police."

Accepting his words, Neal pulled the car back onto the road without saying a word.

Mozzie stared at his friend worriedly for a few seconds before asking, "You are okay, aren't you, Neal?"

Swallowing roughly, Neal found himself nodding again. It was an instinctive response now whether he was or wasn't…because he had to be. "Yeah," he answered aloud. "I'm fine. I just…I got used to living in New York, so the idea of starting over is a little tough."

Mozzie glanced out the window to look at Toronto once more. "You miss June," he stated softly.

"Yes," Neal admitted. "And, Jones; and Diana, and Elizabeth…"

"And, Peter," his friend added.

Neal closed his eyes for a second but hurriedly opened them again when he remembered he was driving and didn't know this road too well. "Yeah, and Peter..." He glanced at Mozzie and added, "But I know he'll have a better life without me being there to screw it up all the time. Peter's gone through a lot because of me, and with me out of the picture, his life will be a lot easier and a lot less dangerous."

"And, his success average at the bureau will go down a lot more," Moz added with a smug smile. "He'll see how much he relied on us."

Neal felt tears gather in his eyes, but he refused to let them fall. "Peter will be okay. He's a good agent. He was solving cases without me before I arrived, and he'll continue to do it now that I'm gone." He didn't say it aloud, but he added silently, " _But, I do hope that he'll miss me from time to time, though_."

=)=)=)

Peter stood inside a Mr. Foye's office at the Port Authority Bus Terminal. Jones, Diana, and he were watching a large computer screen of footage they had asked requested to see. They watched Neal exit the lobby and step onto a bus headed to Buffalo, NY.

"Buffalo?" questioned Jones, clearly surprised. "Why would Caffrey go to Buffalo?"

Instead of answering, Peter merely looked at Neal's face when Mr. Foye paused the screen on their fugitive. "He doesn't look happy," he muttered.

Diana obviously heard him, because she replied, "He knows he shouldn't be running. I just don't understand why he did…"

Peter knew all too well, but he didn't want to discuss it with his fellow agents, not yet. He looked at Jones and responded to his earlier question, "I don't think Neal's destination is Buffalo. I think that's a starting off point. He's going somewhere else. We just have to follow the trail."

"And, how are we going to do that?" Jones asked. "I'm not sure notifying Buffalo's police department that they have a fugitive in their midst would be the best action."

"No, it wouldn't be," Peter said, shaking his head. "I doubt he's still there, but if he is, I don't want them to scare him off."

He walked away from the agents and looked out a window. When he turned back to them after several long seconds later, he announced, "I have a lot of vacation time built up. I think I'm going to ask for a few weeks off and take a trip to Buffalo for a little while."

Diana and Jones widened their eyes in surprise. It was obvious they hadn't expected that response.

"Are you sure that's wise, boss?" Diana questioned.

Peter nodded determinedly. Already his mind was jumping to the things he would need to do to prepare for this trip. There was no question that he was going to take Elizabeth with him to make this "vacation" all the more believable to the higher-ups at the FBI. Of course, he would need someone to watch Satchmo…

His thoughts then turned to what he would do once he found Neal. Because he was putting himself on vacation, technically, he wouldn't have to arrest him. He could actually talk to Neal and they could figure out what they were going to do together… It was the best plan he had as of right now. All that mattered to him at that point was to find him. One way or another, he was determined to bring Neal home where he belonged. Yes, there would be some type of fallout from all of this, but he wouldn't let Neal go through it alone. He would be there every step of the way…

"I have to find him," he said aloud, at first unaware that he was speaking; "I have to fix this." When he saw Diana and Jones raise their brows, he knew he had spoken. Instead of explaining or adding anything else, he stepped outside. He still had trouble talking about what had happened to make Neal run, so he didn't want to answer any questions they might have. Besides, he knew Jones knew most of what had happened anyway. Jones knew Neal and he had been going through a tough time, even if he didn't understand why. That would have to be enough of an explanation for right now, because he was having a hard time holding himself together.

The pursuit, the obsession of finding Neal, was the only thing that was keeping him together at this point. He couldn't think about the _why_ right now. The guilt would be overwhelming if he allowed himself to think about it too much.

His thoughts then drifted to thinking about what life would be like without Neal. He was living that life now, and already, he found it seriously lacking. Nobody else at the office would argue with him the way Neal did. No one else could get him to laugh the way Neal did. Hell, he couldn't talk to anyone the way he did with Neal.

Neal was his best friend and he missed him. And, he knew Neal felt the same way about him. He remembered each and every time Neal had admitted that he respected and trusted him. Neal had claimed to trust him more than Mozzie and that spoke volumes. He knew Neal might not feel that way anymore, but he hoped he did. He had to convince him to come home after all. He hoped he could…

=)=)=)

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Don't worry. We will have some Neal and Peter interaction very soon! Peter is hot on his trail, after all. I'm not saying whether they will or won't do it face-to-face. I don't want to ruin my story, after all, haha! Let me know what you think, please!


	5. Chapter 5

The Pain of Change Chapter 5

Neal stood near the glass and stared off into the distance. He didn’t say a word. He was lost in his own thoughts, so he was oblivious that anyone had even taken notice of him until he heard a familiar voice address him.

“You have to snap out this, mon frère.”

Neal sighed and without looking at his visitor replied, “Yeah, I know I do, Moz.” He looked down at his hands for a moment and asked, “How did you know I was here?”

“Are you kidding?” Moz replied; “You stay on the same schedule every day. You always end up in the CN Tower at 3:00. Would you care to explain why?” He turned around and motioned to the only painting in the room and it was actually drawn on the wall:  it was a sketch of the tower which told you how far off the ground you were at each level. “Nothing in this place is worth the amount of time you spend here.”

Neal finally looked at him. He felt tears coming to his eyes, but he didn’t let them fall. Instead, he gestured to the window. “Look straight ahead. Do you see what looks like a light smoke coming off the trees in the distance?”

Mozzie looked around until he spotted it. He pointed. “Yeah, I do.”

Neal pursed his lips for a moment and explained, “That’s Niagara Falls. What you see is mist from the Horseshoe Falls.”

Mozzie lifted his brow and asked, “Do you want to go? It’s not all that faraway. We can take a whole day off and spend it there…” His words were interrupted by Neal’s sarcastic laughter.

“Take a day off? What exactly is it that we do?”

Mozzie shook his head at him and said, “Oh, _you_ may do nothing, but _I_ on the other hand am getting acquainted with our fellow coworkers throughout the city. Soon, we’ll be back in business.”

Neal didn’t reply—he merely looked at the Falls again.

“Do you want to go or what?” Moz sounded a little frustrated. He leaned against the windowpane, touched the cuff on Neal’s suit, and continued, “Hey, we’ll do whatever you want. Say the word.”

Neal knew his friend was concerned about him. He would admit he hadn’t been himself since leaving New York City and he needed to snap out of it, so to speak. It was hard, though. He knew he was going through a harder grieving process than Mozzie. He could never go back to his old life, after all. Mozzie could because no one was searching for him. Instead of getting jealous or bemoaning his own misfortune, he tried to focus on only the topic they were discussing, but it was difficult since that particular topic dealt with the one he wanted to avoid. Regardless, he finally answered his friend. “Maybe we can one day.” He knew he didn’t sound too enthused.  

When he saw that Mozzie looked irritated at his answer, he explained, “Look, Moz. We see Niagara Falls from here. Do you know what that means?”

“No,” he replied with a shrug.

Neal stared off into the distance again and prepared himself for the lecture Mozzie would no doubt give him after hearing his explanation, but he told him anyway. “The land behind the falls is the United States. It’s New York.” He wasn’t surprised to hear Mozzie sigh, but he was surprised to hear him mumbling about his probably not being able to do a job...

=)=)=)

Peter stepped out of the hotel lobby and went to the car where he wife sat. He leaned on the opened driver-side window and said, “We’re in Room 110 at the end. There’s a parking space in front of it.” He handed her a key as he slipped another into his back pocket.

“Thanks, hon,” she said as she started the car and drove away. Peter followed on foot since it wasn’t too far away. He knocked lightly on the trunk of the car once he reached it, so El could pop it open. 

Soon, he was carrying their luggage into the room after El had opened the door.

“This is nice,” he heard her say as she sat down on the bed in front of the television. “So, how long do you plan on staying here in Buffalo?”

Setting their suitcases on the nearby dresser, he turned to his wife, placed his hands on his hips, and replied, “I don’t know, hon. It depends on how long it takes to get a lead on Neal. Hopefully, it won’t take too long, because I only have two weeks to find him on my own time.”

She bit her lip for a moment in contemplation and then stated, “That’s going to be tough, isn’t it? After all, as you’ve said in the past, Neal is good at hiding.”

Undeterred, Peter walked over to her, sat on the bed, and countered, “Yeah, well, I’m good at finding Neal Caffrey.”

El patted his knee and asked, “How are you going to do it, though? You don’t have the FBI’s resources. This—I don’t know, hon—it almost seems like a wild goose chase.” When he frowned, she quickly added, “Not that I don’t have faith in you. I do. It’s just that it seems like insurmountable odds.”

Peter sighed. “I’m not completely without FBI resources.” He pulled his badge out of his pocket and said, “I can talk to people. I can ask questions on my own, and I know Diana and Jones will find out any information that I might need. I will find him.”

She pressed her lips together with a slight upturn on her lips. She nodded her head once in confidence. “I know you will,” she agreed. She leaned over and kissed him on the lips. Peter wrapped an arm around her waist and grinned when they parted. She then added, “When you seem this confident, you always get your man. So, what’s your next step?”

Peter stood and said, “I’m going to the bus station to wave my badge around. I’ll interview the personnel and see what I can find on any security footage they might have. I might get lucky. Maybe I’ll see him get on another bus to another location. Maybe he’ll grab a cab and I can talk to its driver. There’s no telling what I might find.”

El nodded and patted his leg. “Well, go get’em, then, hon.”

He blinked in surprise. “Now?” He hadn’t been expecting that response at all.

She arched her eyebrow disbelievingly and said, “Yeah, now. Why waste time?”

He grinned and said, “And, that is why I love you.” He leaned down and kissed her once more. Then, he asked, “Are you sure you’ll be fine by yourself?”

“I’ll join you on your next trip into the city,” she replied.

He nodded and grabbed the car keys off the table she had set them on. “Okay, hon. I’ll be back in a few. Wish me luck!”

After he opened the door and left, Elizabeth whispered, “Good luck.”

=)=)=)

Neal walked into the Ritz-Carlton on Wellington Street in Toronto. He was in one of his usual Devore suits and even Mozzie, who was with him, was wearing a suit, as well.  They quickly went into the Toca restaurant within the establishment and scanned the room with their eyes thoroughly.

Moz tapped his elbow lightly and muttered, “In the corner, right hand side.”

Neal buttoned his suit and walked over to the table. As soon as he reached it, he took off his hat, offered his hand to the gentleman who sat there, and said, “Mr. Peterson, I’m Neal Caffrey. Mozzie has told me a lot about you.”

Peterson looked at Mozzie briefly and said, “I hope he didn’t tell you too much.”

“Just the basics,” Moz explained; “I simply told him your name and that you have a job for us.”

Peterson turned his attention back to Neal and said, “I have heard about you, Mr. Caffrey. Please, sit.” He gestured to the seats around him. “I know you are one of the best at what you do and your friend, here, tells me you are back in the game. Is that true?”

Neal swallowed roughly as he sat down and glanced at Mozzie. Moz had told him earlier that someone had offered them a job that would land them a lot of money, namely fifty thousand dollars. Mozzie didn’t know what the job was—only that it would supposedly help people—and Neal was curious enough to find out, especially since Mozzie begged him to at least hear what Peterson had to say, but he wasn’t sure if he’d actually do it. He focused his attention back on the gentleman and replied, “It depends on the job.”

“Ah, are you a little rusty, Mr. Caffrey? Afraid you have lost your touch?”

Neal narrowed his eyes. He didn’t know if the guy was joking or not, but he wouldn’t have his skills questioned, especially in a new city. He leaned back in his seat, tossed his hat on the table flippantly, and said, “No, I only take jobs that are worth my time. Yes, the money is good, but I also like a challenge.”

Peterson laughed and looked at Mozzie. “I like him.”

Mozzie smiled and said, “He is the best and confident in what he does.”

“I see.” Peterson leaned forward and said, “I have a job for you, and it will give you the challenge you are looking for. This job is very personal and it will affect a lot of people. You would actually be doing a service to many. Will you hear me out?”

Neal once again found himself swallowing. In New York, this would have been a no-brainer. He would have heard Peterson out, but he would have already had a wire on, so the FBI could hear everything. This time, he was on his own. He would be breaking the law—he would be returning to a life of crime, regardless of Peterson’s assurances that this job would supposedly be in the service of many. 

Still convincing himself that he only wanted to hear about the job and Peterson’s reasons for having it done, he replied, “Yes.”

=)=)=)


	6. Chapter 6

The Pain of Change Chapter 6

Neal had to admit it:  while it felt strange that he was actually sitting at a table and conversing about a future job, he felt almost like he was back in his element. This meeting a step back into his old life, albeit the one before Peter and he had gotten so close, but it was one he had enjoyed, nonetheless. He could already feel himself focusing on the here and now and forgetting about Peter and New York City. He looked at Peterson expectantly and wasn’t let down when he heard why he was there:

“It’s quite simple, Mr. Caffrey,” Peterson said with a slight smile. “A friend of mine has come into the city with a particular item that belongs to me. He stole it over ten years ago and gloats to everyone that he has it. I want it back.”

Neal furrowed his brow, clearly baffled. He was also a little letdown; the job didn’t seem to be worth his while. He had no desire to be a participant in a war between old friends. Situations like that tended to get a little dangerous and he didn’t want to get involved. So, instead of getting the specifics about the job, he asked, “Did you report the theft to the police? Why don’t you simply report him now and get it back that way?”

Peterson laughed and looked over at Mozzie before glancing around the room. Leaning forward a little, he whispered, “I’m afraid that is not an option. The item in question is…something I don’t want the law to get their hands on.”

Now, Neal was intrigued again. “What is the item?”

Peterson leaned back as a waiter approached the table and asked, “Would you gentlemen like a menu and something to drink?”

Neal and Mozzie shook their heads, but Peterson interrupted, “They’ll have what I’m having.” When the waiter bowed and walked away, he told Neal, “My treat. Now, where were we?”

Not beating around the bush, Neal replied, “You were going to tell me about the item you want me to recover.”

“Ah, yes. Have either of you heard about a heist in the early 1970’s at the Montreal Museum of Fine Arts?”

Neal widened his eyes as he jumped forward a little and glanced at Mozzie. “ _It can’t be_ ,” he thought to himself before turning back to Peterson. “Yes,” he answered eagerly. “In 1972, jewels, figurines, and eighteen paintings worth over 10 million dollars today were stolen. There were pieces by Delacroix, Gainsborough, and even Rembrandt in the collection. No one has ever recovered any of it. Don’t tell me…”

Peterson grinned, showing his perfect teeth, and questioned, “Don’t tell you that I know the location of some of those pieces? Well, I do, Mr. Caffrey, and, you’re going to help me get them back.”

Shocked, Neal glanced at Mozzie again, who also seemed surprised, and asked, “And, how will this job help numerous others?”

“Well, I have been trying for years to get the rare Rembrandt of the collection back. People have died or been severely injured in the attempt. I believe you will have better luck.”

Neal swallowed roughly and asked, “Will you give me time to think about this? And, can you tell me specifics on where the painting is and how it is protected?”

Peterson shook his head and waved a single finger back and forth. “Uh huh, Mr. Caffrey. You will not receive that information until you have agreed to do the job.”

Neal sighed. “How do I know if I want to do the job or not without knowing those details? I want to know how badly my life will be in danger if I agree to do this.”

Peterson merely stared at him.

Neal abruptly stood and extended his hand. “Thank you for the dinner. I believe I must decline your offer.”

Without waiting, he walked away hurriedly. When Mozzie ran to his side, he mumbled, “What have you gotten us into, Moz? I don’t think he’s the kind of guy who is going to take our refusal lightly.”

Mozzie kept quiet as they left the restaurant. Quickly, they ran through the hotel lobby and exited. Merging with the crowd on the street, they disappeared into the night.

=)=)=)

Peter slung his hotel room door open, feeling completely and utterly exhausted. Elizabeth looked across the room at him surprised as he practically dragged himself inside and flopped down onto the empty bed across from hers.

“Are you okay, hon?” he heard El ask. He saw his wife get up from her bed and make her way over to him. She sat down and ran a hand over his back lightly. “How did everything go?”

He rolled over and stared up at the ceiling in frustration and exclaimed, “Horribly. I found nothing.” He then looked at his wife as she arched an eyebrow. “Neal got off the bus here in Buffalo. They had film of that, but then he disappears. There’s nothing that shows him getting onto another bus or getting into a taxi outside the bus terminal…”

After biting her lip lightly for a moment, she questioned, “So, where does that leave us in our hunt for Neal?”

Peter shook his head. “I have no idea. Usually, Neal leaves some kind of bread crumb for me to find, but this time…”

Elizabeth twisted her body onto the bed completely and folded her legs together. “Neal doesn’t want you to find him this time,” she commented.

He scooted up in bed and rested his back against the headboard. “Honey, he never wanted me to find him…”

She interrupted, “If you ask me, when you caught him the first time, it was because he had grown a little cocky. I think he intentionally left you bread crumbs because you were playing a game of Cat and Mouse for years. And, when he escaped prison, he had no intention of running. He had only been searching for Kate so he didn’t bother to cover his tracks. _This_ situation is entirely different. He’s running from you, so he doesn’t want to be found.”

Banging his head back against the wall lightly, Peter stared up at the ceiling. “Perhaps, you’re right, but I have to find him. I can’t leave things as I did. He thinks I only view him as a criminal. I was just so mad…” He shook his head. 

Elizabeth pursed her lips and settled a hand on his forearm. “What are you going to do?”

Peter felt tears gathering in his eyes. “I have no clue. I guess I’ll go to the local police department tomorrow and talk to one of their detectives. Maybe they’ll have some ideas as to whom Neal might have gone to for help. He had to meet up with someone here since he didn’t get on another bus.” He shook his head and he could tell from El’s expression that he must have looked completely bewildered….or perhaps devastated? That’s how he felt. He watched a tear slipped down her cheek.

“You’ll find him,” El stated confidently. “You still have ideas. That’s good. The trail isn’t cold, yet. I know you and you’ll find a way. You always do.”

Peter turned his head to glance out the window. He didn’t say it aloud, but his mind supplied a counterargument to his wife’s words, “ _But there’s a first time for everything_.”

=)=)=)


	7. Chapter 7

The Pain of Change Chapter 7

Neal and Mozzie entered the makeshift apartment that they had created in the warehouse they had decided to rent. “What have you gotten us into, Moz?” Neal said with an intense stare and a shake of his head.

“Nothing!” the shorter man insisted. “Everyone on the street says Peterson is a model client. He pays what you ask for on each job and he takes care of whoever works for him. In fact, they say it’s rare that anyone goes down for one of his jobs.” He sat down on the couch and folded his left leg across his right knee nonchalantly.

“So, just how much pull does Peterson have?” questioned Neal. He went to a window and stared down the street in both directions. He was making sure no one had followed them.

“Pull in what?” he heard Mozzie ask.

He turned back with a sarcastic expression covering his countenance. “You know what I mean,” he said. “If he hires people to do these kinds of jobs and some have supposedly gotten killed or hurt—and hardly _no one_ gets caught by the authorities—he has to have some kind of pull somewhere.”

“I don’t know,” Mozzie admitted. “Nothing in his background suggests he has any connections…”

Neal sighed and turned back to the window again. “That’s a problem, Moz. In New York, I wouldn’t have worried as much, because Peter had our backs. But we’re in a different country now and running from the FBI. We can’t afford to get mixed into something that could get us into a lot of trouble.”

Mozzie approached him and said, “Peterson will probably find someone else to do the job. There’s no reason to worry, even though I do think it might have been a mistake to turn him down so prematurely. The job could have been very lucrative for all of us.”

Neal rolled his eyes a little and exclaimed, “How could I agree to a job I know nothing about? Besides, I don’t want to live that life anyone! You know that!”

Moz squeezed his shoulder and said, “It’s a little late for that, mon frère. You’re running from the FBI and in a foreign country. You are living that life whether you want to or not.”

=)=)=)

The next morning, Peter walked into one of the Buffalo Police Departments on Franklin Street. Confidently, like he had every right to be there, he walked to the receptionist and flashed his badge. “Peter Burke, FBI,” he informed the officer firmly. “I need to speak with one of your detectives.”

The lady lifted a brow and asked, “Which one?”

“Whichever one is available right now.”

She gestured towards a seat and said, “Have a seat. I’ll put in a call to the back.”

Before Peter could even get settled in his seat comfortably, a sidedoor opened and a burly, balding white man stuck his head into the room. “Agent Burke?” he questioned.

He immediately stood and said, “That’s me.” He approached the man and offered his hand.

“Detective Sean Sloan,” the officer said as an introduction and shook his hand. “Lisa said you wanted to talk?”

Peter nodded and answered, “Yes, if you would be so kind. I am on the search for a fugitive and the last place he was spotted was in Buffalo.”

Sloan opened the door wider and suggested, “How about we go to my desk and you can fill me in on the case?”

Peter entered the room and followed Sloan to a desk, which was luckily located in the back of the room and away from all the chaos going on in the center of it. Officers and detectives alike had gathered to talk about an arrest that had just been made. It seemed to be about some kind of bank heist gone awry.

He turned his attention away from the story and sat down in a chair in front of the detective’s desk.

“So, Agent Burke, you said we have a fugitive here in Buffalo. Name?”

Peter grimaced as he replied, “Neal Caffrey.” He didn’t like informing the local law enforcement that Neal was possibly in their jurisdiction, but he knew if he wanted this detective’s help, he had to give him _some_ information. He watched as Sloan typed on his computer and a picture of Neal’s wanted poster popped onto the screen.

“Neal Caffrey, art forger and con man,” Sloan read as scrolled down the screen to read his file. He turned his eyes back to Burke and said, “So, what can I do for you, Agent?”

“I need information,” Peter informed him. “I have been able to track Caffrey to Buffalo. He arrived on one of the Greyhounds from New York City, but then he disappeared. There is no evidence that he got on another bus or even took taxi somewhere. I think he might have met up with someone here, a local. Do you have any ideas on whom that might be?”

The detective leaned back in his chair and crossed his arms. “Not off the top of my head. I can talk to a couple of guys to compile a list, but I think I can save you some trouble.”

Peter cocked a brow. “How so?”

Sloan smirked as he looked at his computer screen again before answering. “This Caffrey is running from the FBI and has already been caught several times. Why did he leave New York City to come to Buffalo of all places?”

Peter stated, “I think you have an idea.”

“Sure, I do. Your boy, there, probably did what all fugitives do when they travel to Buffalo.”

When Peter raised an eyebrow questioningly, he said, “In all likelihood, he came here to cross the border.”

“The border?” Peter questioned. “Into Canada?” He was about to shake his head and deny that it was a possibility, but he stopped himself cold. The truth was it was possible. In fact, it was very likely. It made sense. Neal knew he would look for him, so he had to do the unexpected to go off of the grid. Canada would not have been Peter’s first choice to look. “You know, you might be right,” he mumbled, thinking about it.

Sloan grinned and said, “I’ll still talk to the guys to get that information you need, but if I were you, I’d talk to some of your FBI buddies and get footage of the border crossings. I think you’ll find footage of your escapee there.”

With a game plan set, Peter stood and extended his hand again. “Thanks for your time. I really appreciate it.”

“You’re welcome, Agent Burke. I’ll have that list for you by this afternoon.”

“Yeah, thanks,” he said as he turned around abruptly and jogged back to the lobby. Once he was out, he picked up his cellphone and called the office. As soon as the phone was answered, he didn’t waste time with any greetings—he said, “Neal might have gone into Canada. See if you can arrange a time for me to go through the border footage of the days following Neal’s departure from New York.”

“Sure thing, boss,” Jones replied and they abruptly hung up. 

When he stepped outside, Peter smiled. He was sure he was going in the right direction now. He could feel it.

“I’m right behind you, Neal,” he commented to himself. He pulled out his cellphone and looked up a map of Ontario, Canada. He scanned the names of towns and cities, to think of a location where Neal might go. His eyes immediately focused on a place and his smile widened into a grin.

=)=)=)

Neal woke up the following morning to the smell of coffee and bacon. He rolled out of bed and slipped on his bathrobe. “Ah, Moz,” he exclaimed, coming out of his bedroom. “You sure know how to make up for…” Before he could finish his statement, he froze when he realized Mozzie and he were not alone.

Neal took an unconscious step backwards as a man, whose back was towards him, stood from the kitchen table. He turned around and Neal gasped. 

It was Peterson. “Hello, Mr. Caffrey. Have a seat.” He gestured to the chair across from his.

Neal glanced at Mozzie once more and his friend shrugged with wide eyes. He had a feeling he wasn’t going to like what was about to happen.


	8. Chapter 8

The Pain of Change Chapter 8

"Come on, Mr. Caffrey. I don't bite."

Neal wasn't too sure that was true. Cautiously, he walked to the table and sat down next to Mozzie.

Peterson didn't exchange pleasantries or try to ease into the conversation. He spoke bluntly. "I'm sure you're surprised to see me, Neal. Can I call you Neal?" When Neal didn't respond, Peterson continued, "The truth is I debated after you left the hotel if I should rescind my offer and I decided that I wouldn't. I want the best and you're the best, so I'm here this morning to ask again."

Neal swallowed roughly. He knew Peterson was the kind of guy that didn't take "no" easily. Breathing deeply, he replied, "The answer is still the same. I can't take a job I know nothing about. Besides, I don't want to get involved in something that will draw the attention of the local authorities."

Peterson smirked and said, "If you are truly trying to return to the game as your friend has implied, my offer is actually a nice way to ease back into things. After all, you won't be on the radar of the authorities. No one knows my friend has the Rembrandt, so he's not going to report it when you take it. And, besides, you're simply stealing something to give it back to its original owner."

"Original owner?" Neal questioned with a raised brow.

Peterson chuckled and said, "Well, its owner since 1972."

Neal shook his head and stood from the table. He walked away and stated, "I know there is more to this. You won't tell me where the painting is or how it's being protected. That alone tells me I don't want to recover it."

Peterson also stood and said, "Okay, let's just drop the pretenses."

Neal turned around, prepared to tell him that he wasn't playing games when he saw Peterson's glare.

"The truth is I didn't want to tell you the specifics to test your skills. I wanted to see if you could possibly help me to get the entire collection back. My friend sold the collection a little by little after he had stolen it from me. Forget about the fifty thousand dollars I mentioned as payment. I will give you two million dollars if you help me get it all back."

Neal stared past Peterson at Mozzie. His friend had raised his brow with interest, and Neal immediately turned his attention to his shoes. Sighing, he answered, "The truth is I haven't actually planned on returning to my former line of work. I was debating about it, but now that the possibility of returning to that life is here, I don't think I can do it. I want to try to do things…the right way. I'm sorry, Mr. Peterson." He watched the man's smile morph into a heated glare.

"That's not the answer I wanted, Mr. Caffrey."

" _So, we're back to 'Mr. Caffrey_ ,'" Neal noticed. "I'm sorry. It's just that…I've tried not to be a criminal for several years now, and well, I don't want to go back to that old life."

Peterson stood closer and replied, "I can make things difficult for you, _very_ difficult."

The hairs on the back of Neal's neck stood straight out. He could tell Peterson meant what he said and he could only imagine what the man meant, but he had a good guess: he might alert the authorities to his presence and identity. Why did Mozzie even tell him who they really were? He wanted to strangle his friend at that moment, but he knew it wouldn't do any good to get mad at Moz now. What was done was done. He stepped back from Peterson and said, "Just tell me about the one job. We'll start with that one." He hoped it was enough to get Peterson to back down and hopefully leave for the time being. He also hoped that the other wouldn't notice that he hadn't actually agreed to do the job. He crossed his fingers for luck. If he could get Peterson to leave without any suspicions that they weren't actually going to do the job, Mozzie and he could decide what to do. It seemed as though they just might have to run again.

Peterson smiled and replied, "Lewis Jacobs. He has an office in Mississauga. The Rembrandt is in a vault on the top floor of the building. Lewis has a security team that used to be military. They are…good at their job to say the very least. I need someone equally as good at stealing as they are at protecting. I know you're my man and I can't take 'no' for an answer, Mr. Caffrey."

Biting his lip for a moment, Neal then asked, "What building is it?"

"The Lennox Building."

He nodded and said, "I'll case it and get back to you."

Peterson's smile turned into a grin. "Thank you, Neal." Without any more niceties, he strolled to the elevator, but before he left, he added, "And, don't think about running or hiding, Mr. Caffrey. I'll find you."

As soon as the elevator doors opened and then shut with Peterson inside, Mozzie walked over and asked, "So…Neal, when do you want to take a look at the Lennox Building?"

Neal's jaw dropped as he stared at his friend in disbelief.

=)=)=)

Peter smiled in success as he watched a silver Ford Fusion slip into view of the camera. He recognized the driver instantly as the car pulled to a stop. He felt like a huge weight had been lifted off of his chest even though he technically hadn't found Neal yet. Canada was a huge country with a lot of places to go, but he had an idea and hopefully, it was the right one.

He ejected the recording and left it on the table. Strolling out of the office at the local FBI building, he pulled out his cell phone and called El. As soon as she answered the phone, he exclaimed, "Hon, I found Neal! He crossed the border into Canada!" He didn't wait for his wife to respond; instead, he gave orders right away. "Pack up our things and make sure we brought our passports. We're going into Canada this afternoon, so we can beat the rush hour traffic in the morning."

"Where are we actually going?" El asked. "Do you have any ideas where Neal has gone in Canada?"

Peter smiled and answered, "I don't know for sure. It's just a hunch, but obviously since Neal crossed the border into Ontario, he's decided to stay in that particular providence. When I looked at the map, one place stood out as a location that Neal Caffrey would be interested in."

"Oh, really?" she questioned. "And, where is that?"

He replied with a grin, "Toronto."


End file.
